


Only Stardust

by shereadwhatshewrote



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Depression, Heavy Petting, Liz Evans in the character tag is just the ofc, Marriage Proposal, Menstruation, Mental Illness, One-Shots, Oral Sex, Other, Pon Farr, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, mental health, period, these tags are so out of order its Whack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2020-12-22 13:55:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shereadwhatshewrote/pseuds/shereadwhatshewrote
Summary: Self-insert oneshots, mostly unrelated. You can choose to read it as a reader-insert, but I left the name I used for my OC in there.Dr. Liz Evans is the right-hand man for Bones, and notices that Spock seems to be getting injured more and more frequently.





	1. An Increased Incidence of Injury in One Commander Spock

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally self-indulgent, DLDR, all of that. Multiple parts to the one-shots will have the same chapter title with pt. #

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock lands himself in the Med Bay again and again.

Constant missions. Constant missions is what caused this mess. Medical supplies everywhere, strewn about every surface, hyposprays and scalpels and dermal regenerators. No time to clean up when every eight hours or so there was a new barrage of red shirts into the Med Bay. If not for the shift rotation, I likely would have been nonfunctional by now. I don’t know how Dr. McCoy wasn’t dead already.

A blue shirt caught my attention. Science officer, probably sent to examine the flora of the newly discovered planet we were orbiting. Oh. Not a botanist. “Commander Spock, what brings you to Med Bay?” I ran a tricorder over his seated frame, stopping around his left side. Elevated platelet levels, lymphocytes…

“I seem to have been stabbed.” He lifted his arm to reveal a dark green splotch on his otherwise unmarred uniform. In the middle of the bloodstain was a crude knife, fashioned from a sharp rock and wooden handle.

“I see. Nurse Chapel?” She finished up with her broken arm and walked over, visually assessing the situation. “Do you know how long the knife is?” He shook his head, stony faced as ever. “Alright, I’m gonna need gauze, triptacederine hypo, muscle regenerator, vascular reattacher, a specialized cellular generator just to be safe, antimicrobial hypo, a dermal regenerator, and...” I palpated around the wound, looking for ribs. Good, it didn’t hit any of them. “...that’s it.” I continued examining the wound, cutting his shirt so that the whole of his side was exposed. When the tray with my tools was set down, I immediately grabbed the hypo and pressed it just above the wound, and swaddled the knife with gauze.

“I’m gonna pull the knife out now. You shouldn’t feel it much, just let me know if you need more painkillers.” A brief nod was all I needed to continue. “One, two-” and I yanked it. Didn’t want him tensing up, but he seemed relaxed, almost oddly so. I pressed the gauze into the wound, giving it time to soak up the blood. I continued working, and decided to make small talk, a thing I usually did with my patients.

“So how did you get stabbed on an uninhabited planet, Commander Spock?”

“It seems it’s not quite as uninhabited as we thought.” I hummed in response, repairing the scratch to his mercifully unperforated stomach.

“Evidently,” I said, flicking my eyes to the primitive knife. “From that, I’m guessing pre-metallurgy society. How did our scans not pick them up? I thought we had flora and minor fauna, not humanoids.”

“Your assessment of their development is correct, but they don’t appear to be humanoid. They’re not bipedal, at least, but I did not get an adequate look to assess them further.”

I nodded, and stitched together his intercostal muscles before moving on to the veins and arteries. The gauze was soaked deep green already, so I removed it and grabbed the dermal regenerator. After sealing his skin shut, I hypo’d where the wound was with the antimicrobial solution to prevent infection. Standing up and tossing the hypo and regenerator to the side, I patted him on the arm. “You’re all good to go, Spock. Come back in if you have any symptoms of infection, lethargy, dizziness, you know the drill.” I smiled and turned to my next patient, but I could hear a softly murmured Thank You before the doors slid open behind me.

The next few weeks were less hectic. No Klingon conflicts, no more landing parties on hostile planets. I spent this time overseeing the long-overdue cleanup of the Med Bay. There were benefits to being the second in command of the medical sector on the _Enterprise,_ and one of them was not having to haul bins of hypos and scalpels to the autoclaves.

After that, though, it picked up again. More red shirts from landing parties, injuries from attacks to the ship. An odd component to the usual rotation was Commander Spock. Somehow, he kept injuring himself with the others.

After his third visit after pulling out the knife, I finally decided it was time to chastise him. “Spock.”

“Dr. Evans.”

I snorted. “This is the fourth time in under two months you’ve had a serious injury.” I grunted as I popped his dislocated shoulder into place.

“An accurate enumeration, I believe.” He moved his arm a little, gingerly almost. I gave him a quick painkiller hypo, then stood in front of him, arms crossed, until he eventually looked at me.

“Spock, you need to take it easy. One week rest, not bed rest, but no work and no heavy activity.” He started to protest, citing his fast Vulcan healing, but I cut him off with a raised hand. “You’re going to wear your body out if you keep going like this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to hurt yourself.” That gave him pause.

“The injuries, while unintentional, allow me an illogical, if pleasant benefit.” An illogical pleasant benefit? I quirked an eyebrow. “I am allowed the pleasure of your company, Dr. Evans.” I suppressed a chuckle. Was this the Vulcan equivalent of flirting?

“You don’t have to get hurt to enjoy my company, you know. You can see me outside of work hours, even. But the week of rest still applies, you’ve been straining your body too hard as it is.” He nodded, and stood to leave. “Come and see me whenever, just not under the guise of injury. I’m usually here or my quarters, but on my off days I like to play chess in the lounge if you’d like to join me sometime.” My smile was met with a nod, and what I thought could be the barest hints of a smile. Interesting.


	2. Chess Games in the Lounge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Spock play some chess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> owo

The lounge was peaceful, almost empty with soft, chime-like music playing in the background. I had a book open on my PADD, but I was enjoying my syntheholic wine more than the soothing words of Ernest Hemingway.

My lounging was interrupted by a gentle clearing of a throat to my right. I sat up straight and whipped around to face the intruder. “Commander Spock.”

“You mentioned it was agreeable to meet in the lounge for a game of chess. I came to take you up on the offer.” Expressionless, almost monotone. His usual facade of emotionlessness was hard to read. Nevertheless, I grinned at him and gestured to the chess set on the other side of the room. He got there first, his legs being much longer than my own. I sat, and began resetting the three boards. He joined me, placing the pieces neatly in their designated squares.

“I should warn you,” I said, placing the final pawn on the board, “that I’m kind of terrible compared to Vulcan standards.” This earned me a small quirk of his lips.

“I shall try to match your level, then.”

“Oh, goodness, don’t take it easy on me. How else would I learn?” His eyes twitched in, if I didn’t know any better, a smile.

He let me go first, and I took the usual beginning maneuvers, moving my pawns in opposition to his. He seemed to be taking the Miyamoto strategy, so I countered with the Proleiko defense. I was wrong, he was using the Miyamoto strategy to mask his offense. Within ten moves I was check-mated.

“You lasted longer than I anticipated. Well done.”

“You still got me in under fifteen minutes! Wanna go again?” He nodded, and began resetting the pieces. We played for a long while, until his communicator beeped, signalling his need to start his shift.

“Until next time,” he said, inclining his head before exiting. I smiled at him, and moved to pick my PADD up again. I couldn’t focus on the adventures of Jake Barnes, my head was too busy replaying the lithe movements of the commanders fingers, the way his lips quirked slightly when I told a joke. Oh, lord help me, a crush in this line of work would kill me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	3. Only Stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Enterprise orbits a forming star to gather information, and Liz welcomes a surprise visitor into her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the quintessential chapter the fic title is based off of. Enjoy, you lil Trekkies.

The lights in my quarters were off, and I had incense burning, sandalwood and dragon blood. The savory-sweet aroma added to my experience, but was not my primary focus. The view outside my windows was. Swirling red and pink particles were swimming past each other in a giant vortex, the beginnings of star formation. According to the readout on my PADD, the glowing mass in the center was already generating immense heat, which gave it the mystical pinky-rose hue. The edges of the cloud were tinged with brilliant green and neon blue, which gave a beautiful outline against the background of twinkling distant stars. I was enraptured, standing in front of the wall-sized window, and barely heard the chime signalling someone at my door.

“Come in,” I barely whispered, then repeated it louder when there was no reply. I didn’t turn around or acknowledge the approaching footsteps, I was too caught up in the red dance playing out in front of my eyes. My visitor and I stood in silence for several minutes before my gaze was torn away by a throat being cleared.

“Spock.”

“Liz.” I smiled softly.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? I could stare at it for hours, just watching it dance.” I turned back to the window, allowing my eyes to follow the flow of particulates. Differently heated particles meant different elements. Silica, iron, oxygen. Hydrogen burned the brightest, almost white. “That’s the beginning of life, Spock.”

“It’s only stardust.” He seemed perplexed, if only just. I turned to look at him, dumbfounded by his lack of understanding.

“Only stardust? Spock, that dust is the beginning of evolution. It’ll get drawn together and bind, and create a baby star. That star will go on to attract more dust, more material to form planets. Those planets, if they’re placed just right and have the right mass and materials and conditions, will form life. Amino acids, then microbes, then multi-cell organisms. Those organisms could then become an intelligent species, one capable of developing culture and beliefs, and a thousand different kinds of experiences. That _dust,_ Spock, is the beginning of a million million lives.” I sounded exasperated, I knew, but goddamn if I was going to let him go on believing that dust was just meaningless particles.

He bore my tirade in silence, only lifting an eyebrow when I was finished. “I had no idea that astrophysical evolution was such an interest of yours.”

I gave a small laugh, letting the tension roll out of my shoulders. “I don’t, I just think its… beautiful. Cyclical. Circle of life, and all that, and it all comes from a little dust that happened to be in the right gravitational field at the right time.” He nodded, letting his arms fall to his sides from their position clasped behind his back.

“I can indeed appreciate the beauty this dust creates.” I smiled at him then, full-on grinning. Finally, some expression that I could work with.

“Since I doubt you came here to listen to me rant about stars and life, Commander, what _did_ you visit me for?”

He cocked his head to the side, and turned back to the window. I turned back as well, sensing that the prolonged eye contact was making him uncomfortable. “I simply wished to enjoy some time with you.”

“I see.” I swear I saw him smile out of the corner of my eye. “Did you have anything in mind, or do you want to continue just watching stardust?” There came no reply, only a slight pressure on my hand. I returned it, feeling a light tingling in my fingertips when they pressed against his. I interlaced our fingers and stood next to him.

We stayed like that for quite some time, until a gentle dinging signalled shift change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	4. A Stupid Way to Start the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones is overworked, Jim is escaping his physical, and Spock worries about Liz's stupid choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually hate the Jim-Wont-Take-His-Physical trope, but hey, where are we without the classics, huh?

“Bones, you need a rest.” The good doctor was hunched over his desk, angrily punching keys on his PADD. “Bones.” I placed my hands on top of his, stopping his phalangic stabbing. He turned to me, mouth set in a firm line and dark circles making his eyes pop against his otherwise sallow skin.

“I’m fine, there’s too much work to be done on this goddamn starship.” He tried to go back to inputting data, but I shoved the PADD away and pushed myself up to sit on the desk.

“It’s work that I can help with, and you can’t keep pulling triple shifts. You’re gonna tear yourself apart trying to do it all alone.” He sat back in his chair, sighing and rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“Fine. I’ll go get some sleep, but first,” he said, hauling himself up with a grunt, “I gotta get Jim to do his damn physical.”

I put a firm hand on his chest. “_No._” I frogmarched him up to the security officer stationed by the door to the Med Bay, which I’m sure was quite an image. Someone pushing around the tall, grumpy doctor was not exactly an everyday sight. “Make sure he gets back to his quarters, please. No stops, no Please Can I Justs, straight to his quarters. And yes,” I said, turning towards an already-protesting Bones, “I will go to the bridge and force Jim to take his physical. As an added bonus, I’ll even do your paperwork. Now go get some sleep, you look like hell.”

When that was taken care of, I finally made my way to the bridge. I wasn’t there often, and the large screens and shiny equipment would have been intimidating had I not had the exhausted doctor so fresh in my mind. I walked past Spock, who gave me an inquisitive glance and a light hand brush, and marched right up to the captain’s chair.

“Captain Kirk.” He looked up at me with those big blue puppy dog eyes. Not gonna work this time, Captain.

“Dr. Evans! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He looked innocent, as if he didn’t already know why I was there.

“Cut the shit, Captain.” This earned several stares and even a scandalized gasp. He raised his eyebrows at me, shocked at my language. “Right now I’ve got a _very_ overworked and angry doctor on forced bedrest, and do you know what his biggest source of stress is? It’s you, you and your refusal to take your damn monthly physicals. So you’re going to come with me and we’re gonna get this physical over with so that Bones can finally take a load off.” Dead silence. Dead silence and the beeping of some unacknowledged message.

“Yes ma’am,” came the abashed reply. Holy shit, it worked. It worked and I wasn’t going to get reprimanded. Thank god. The captain stood and gestured to Spock. “Back to work, I guess.”

I felt very satisfied. Anyone who insisted that short girls aren’t intimidating can suck my whole ass. We walked to the turbolift in silence, but I could hear the hushed whispers we were leaving behind on the bridge. Once inside the lift, we stood side-by-side, not looking at each other.

Eventually, my superior spoke. “That was a very… _interesting_ approach to take with your captain, Liz.”

I sighed, and mirrored Bones’s previous action, rubbing my face and eyes. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what came over me. Bones is a wreck, and the rest of the Med Bay isn’t that far behind. I’ve got my work, plus Bones’s paperwork and reports, and I have to go through the whole crew’s physicals, the psych evals--”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, slapping my arm and walking out of the opening doors. “I’ll do my best to make this easy on you.” He threw me a wink, already five steps ahead of me.

-

“Liz, that was an incredibly foolish thing to do.” Spock had walked up, unannounced, to the table I was dining at.

“Spock--”

“He’s your commander. He could reassign you to another ship, he could demote you, he could have--”

“It’s completely fine. He’s not mad, he’s just upset that he didn’t know his friend was that stressed out by it. In fact,” I said, setting down my fork, “he was significantly less upset than you are now.” He stopped in his tracks, taking in the aggressive stance and harsh breaths that I had noticed immediately.

“I… apologize. I didn’t intend to become so aggravated. I only wanted to express how illogical your actions were.” His gaze was pointed down, and I knew he was ashamed that he had allowed his emotions to peek through.

“It’s alright, I know it was stupid. But it worked, didn’t it? I got Jim’s physical done and finished up all the work that Dr. McCoy wasn’t able to. Everything worked out, even if I did take an idiotic risk.”

I heard the smallest sigh escape his lips, and he looked away as he returned to his usual position with his hands behind his back. “You continue to vex me, Dr. Evans.”

“And you I.” I replied. A tilted head was his only response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, pleae consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	5. Human Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan kisses are remarkably different from human kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I should write some pre-smut. jk haha... unless?

“Spock.” A hum was the only sound I was greeted with. I sighed, and sat down in front of him. His meditation was supposed to end almost an hour ago. I fiddled with the edge of his mat, the ends of my sleeves. I finally gave up and touched his hand, that odd tingling feeling returning to my palm and fingertips. _That_ got him to open his eyes and relax his back slightly.

“Ashayam.” He watched, eyes half-lidded as I traced each of his fingers, the outline of his palm, the lines in his hand. His ears were tinted the lightest green when I eventually looked up. Good.

“I have a question for you,” I murmured, sing-songy.

“And what would that be?” He pressed his fingers back against my own, and the tingling intensified.

“Why… haven’t… you… kissed me yet?” I looked up at him through my lashes, adding a second hand to my ministrations.

A slow blink met my demure gaze. “We have. We are now.”

“You know what I mean.” I stood up, breaking the contact between us. It took a moment for the tingling to fizzle out. “Why haven’t you kissed me in the human way?” He stood as well, flexing his legs to fix the tension they had accrued.

“I was unsure that that was something you wanted. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or push you too far.”

“I have needs, Spock. Human needs. And I’m sorry to report, commander, that you have been lacking in your duties. An officer under your command requires your attention.”

Had he been fully human, he would have smirked or laughed. Instead a quick twitch of his lips and a softening of his eyes was all I saw. “And what would be the most appropriate course of action to correct this oversight, Doctor?”

I sidled closer to him, reaching up to place one hand on the join between his neck and shoulder, one hand on his face, my thumb brushing his cheekbone. “This.” And I stood on my tiptoes and pulled him down to gently place my lips on his own. It lasted only a moment, but it was sweet. The same tingling sensation that I was used to experiencing in my hands encompassed my lips, left them buzzing.

“Fascinating.” It came as less than a whisper, and his eyes were dark and inscrutable. His lips were back on mine in seconds, moving with slightly more force. It became steadily deeper, until my only focus was the feeling of his tongue on mine, the buzzing of my mouth.

Eventually, I had to pull away for more air, chuckling. “I think I’m not the only one with human needs, commander.” I brushed my hand along his inner thigh, bringing his attention to the tension in his pants.

He started to pull away. “I apologize, I--” I pulled him back to me, brushing my thumb over his bottom lip.

“It’s okay. I’d like to keep going and see where this takes us, if you want to.” He nodded, and I maneuvered him so that he was seated on the couch, and I placed my thighs on either side of his. This seemed to take him by surprise, if his expression was anything to go by. He hesitantly placed his hands on my waist, unsure of himself.

“You need to relax,” I murmured, moving his hands slightly lower, so that they were resting at the tops of my hips. I placed my hands on his shoulders, readjusting how my weight was distributed on my knees. Didn’t want to get sore too fast, didn’t know how long we would be doing this.

He obviously hadn’t done this before, not like this at least. “Just relax, ashayam,” I whispered into his ear. The use of the Vulcan word seemed to center him, calm him some. I returned to the activity at hand: making out like teenagers. It didn’t take him long to get back into it.

Moving against him in rhythmic motions was a natural result of the intensity of our activity level. I had already tangled one hand in his hair, mussing it in an adorable way, and my other hand was balled in the material of his shirt above his shoulder. When I had to break away for breath again, I rested my head down on his shoulder, panting into his neck. I settled my hips down to relieve some strain on my knees, and I heard a low groan from the pressure of my rear end on his groin.

“Careful cowboy,” I teased, nipping at his neck just below his ear. “One might think you’re aroused.”

“I’m very clearly aroused, Liz.” I sat up again, taking in his absolutely ruined look. His hair had lost its usual shape, tangled and sticking up at odd angles. His lips were slightly swollen, and he had a faint green glow across his face and neck. It was _divine._

“I didn’t _realize,_” I said, grinding my hips down, “that you were this _attracted_ to me, Commander Spock.” Whatever he was going to say, it was cut off by my lips as they reconnected with his. I paid special attention to the movement of my hips, grinding against the hardness between my thighs. When he began unashamedly groaning into my lips I knew it was time.

I climbed off of him, smoothing out the wrinkles in my clothes and flattening my hair. “I’ll see you later, Commander Spock.” I threw him a flirtatious smile, and walked out the door. One final glance told me I had made the right move. He was left on the couch, mouth and legs slightly open, flushed bright green and hair a total mess. He was exuding sexuality. Good, excellent, but not something I had been prepared to do tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	6. Human Kiss pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz has a bad day and makes a couple of new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I stated writing pt. 2 for this and its turning out super long so I split it into two parts. Pt. 3 has smut uwu

The next few weeks proceeded normally, if there was such a thing on a starship. Thankfully, no major injuries or deaths, but quite a few minor injuries like broken fingers and torn skin. The only thing even remotely out of the ordinary was Spock. He was even more formal and business-like than usual, even with me. Light finger touches and games of chess were all that he allowed me. I wondered if I had pushed him away, made him uncomfortable with my sexual advance. Lonely and dejected one night after my shift, I found myself restlessly wandering the halls. I wasn’t paying attention to where my feet took me, I was only focused on the rhythm of my feet on the floor, the aching in my knees from my long shift.

I passed the Captain at some point, gesturing wildly and talking animatedly to an ensign who looked dazed. I threw him a sympathetic look, and gave the Captain a weak smile and a wave. He didn’t seem to notice, so I kept walking. Down and down, further into the ship’s belly I went, pausing every so often to catch my breath. Had I started running? I hadn’t noticed.

I finally stopped when confronted with a large door, darker than standard. The plaque read ‘Main Engineering.’ Shit, if anything I’d learn about what made this ship tick. Walking in, it wasn’t what I expected. The bridge of the _Enterprise_ was sleek and shiny, bright and luminous. Engineering was its opposite, with its minimum lighting and bulging pipes and wires. What shocked me more was the sight of two crewmen sitting on a large extrusion, playing some sort of drinking game. One was human, the other a species I was unfamiliar with as of yet, short and green-grey with facial ridges and protrusions. When they finally noticed me, the human one called me over.

“Ay, finally! Someone who has a normal alcohol tolerance. Tha’ oyster,” he said, gesturing to the alien, “cannae hardly drink _anythin’_ before he starts his sneezin’. C’mere, lass, lemme pour ya one s’ you c’n catch up.” Oh man, he was already inebriated. Guess this wasn’t regulation synthehol, but I accepted the glass handed to me nonetheless.

After downing the amber liquid that left a burning feeling in my stomach, I stuck out my hand. “Doctor Liz Evans. My guess is you’re Montgomery Scott, so this must be Keenser.” My hand was shaken vigorously by the head engineer, but was met with a head shake by the other.

“Doctor, I shouldae known. I ain’ gettin’ no check-up, s’you can leave yer damn equipment in Med Bay.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Nah, I’m not here for any of that. I was just wandering and ended up here, I guess.”

The man stopped and peered closely into my face, eyes squinting. “Yeh looked troubled. Wha’s botherin’ ya?”

I helped myself to another glass of whatever-it-was. My head felt pleasantly light, and I found myself willing to spill my guts to a total stranger. Fuck it, right? I hopped up onto the pipe they were sitting on and downed half of my glass. My face was already heating up, but it wasn’t uncomfortably hot yet. It had been a while since I’d had real, genuine alcohol.

“Boy troubles,” was my only reply. A sage nod and a gentle slap on the back was the quiet reply.

I sat there for some time, drinking and making increasingly unintelligible conversation. It was time to call it quits when Scotty sputtered and laughed when I accidentally revealed that the root of my sadness was Commander Spock. I couldn’t handle my newfound friend poking fun at me for loving an emotionless man, and he wouldn’t believe me when I told him that Spock was usually very sweet and emotive, once you learned to read him well.

I almost lost my footing when I hopped off the pipe. I had forgotten how high up it was, and a steadying hand on my shoulder helped me to regain my balance. I waved goodbye, and began heading down the near-silent ship’s hallways. Must be beta shift by now, because there were almost no people in the halls. Most people would be asleep, with only a skeleton crew to keep her running. The people I did encounter paid me no mind, so I guess I wasn’t stumbling or tripping over myself too bad. That’s good.

When the doors to my quarters opened, I stepped inside and blinked slowly. The furniture was different, and it smelled faintly of incense. The neat lines and blue uniforms tucked into the closet clued me in; this was Spock’s room. I’d been here before, but had only rarely slept over, saved for when he was almost killed on an away team or when I’d had a bad day with patients. I let myself flop on the bed, and shuffled and twisted until my shoes were off, my hair down, and was swaddled in the thin blanket. I hugged a pillow to my chest, and rested my chin on it. Sleep now, deal with a less-than-happy Spock later.

I woke when a weight settled onto the bed next to me. I cracked my eyes open, and found a demure Spock sat on the edge, brushing the hair from my face. “What time is it?” My voice was croaky and cracked on the word _time._

“Time for you to move over, ashayam. You’re laying across the whole bed.” I groaned, but rolled over to give him room. When he had settled next to me, head and shoulders propped onto the pillows I wasn’t hogging, I curled next to his side, wrapping one arm around his chest and resting my head on his shoulders. After a moment, he spoke. “You smell like alcohol.” I nodded, groggy and back on the cusp of sleep.  
“Made a friend.” He kissed the top of my head lightly, settling in for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	7. Human Kiss pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut smut,,,,, I guess? Spock goes down on Liz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: oh this is long ill split it into two chapters  
me, 2k later: fUCK what have I done how is this still going

Waking up next to Spock was an odd experience, always. His breathing was even and shallow, almost silent, and I only noticed it when I felt it tickle the hair on my scalp. He slept like a log, arms and legs straight, almost rigid. This morning though, one arm was wrapped protectively around my waist, holding me to his side. Carefully, so as not to wake him, I climbed out of bed.

“Ashayam.” Shit, I guess I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought. I turned back to him, my heart full to bursting at the sight of him rubbing his eyes and stretching one arm up in the air. “Where are you going?”

“To the shower, love. I stink.” I threw a pillow at his face, which landed with a soft _whump._ He chuckled softly and left it in his lap.

I cleaned myself quickly, scrubbing until I was bright pink. Needed the sweat of yesterday’s shift and the grime from engineering gone, needed my breath to stop stinking of old alcohol. I dried my hair and wrapped myself in a towel, and walked back into the main room, grinning at the sight of my sweetheart already seated with his legs on the meditation mat, back turned to me. I sat on the bed, considering.

_Whump._ The pillow hit him on the side of his head this time, and landed a few feet away. No response. I threw another, which hit him in the shoulder. Still nothing. I huffed, and stood. “Spock.” What was I, incorporeal? “Darling dearest. Lover of mine. _Ashayam._” His lips twitched, and his head cocked a little. Finally. I draped myself in his lap, settling so my head was on one knee and my rear end just barely on the ground on the outside of his other thigh. Running my fingers over his jaw, the ridge of his nose, the lines of his face, I finally broke him out of his meditation. His eyes opened slightly, and I could tell he was a little irritated at my neediness.

“Can I help you?”

“Mmm, I’m sure you can, but you need to tell me something first.” He raised an eyebrow, and I shifted so that I was seated in front of him, grabbing the towel before it could fall. “You’ve been pulling back from me. Why? Did I do something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable? Was the other night too--” He cut me off with one finger, trailing over my lips, my cheekbone, the line of my jaw.

“No, Liz. I just…” He seemed to think over his words for a minute, trailing his hand down my neck, my shoulder, down to my hand. “You have distracted me.”

I waited for him to continue, and when he did not, I prompted him further. “Elaborate on your statement. In what way am I distracting you?”

The tingling began in my fingertips as he lazily traced circles on them with two fingers. I couldn’t help the shiver that ran through me, thinking of the last time that I had interrupted his meditation with hand kisses. “The other night, it… It’s hard to concentrate on my duties when imagining the curve of your body against mine, and with my meditation being _interrupted,_” he said, interlacing our fingers and making my whole hand buzz, “it has distracted me from my duties.”

I blinked slowly, processing this information. _I_ had distracted the great Commander Spock? “I… apologize for the distraction, ashayam. That was not my intent.”

He shook his head, bringing his other hand up to cup my cheek and looking into my eyes. “No need to apologize. I just wish to be with you, even when it’s not appropriate to do so.” He placed a gentle kiss on my lips, and pulled away slowly. I didn’t want him to pull away, and leaned forward to pull him into a tight embrace. For a blissful moment, we sat there in each others arms, enjoying the peace it brought us. When he pulled away again, I let him. He didn’t stand, though, he just sat and looked at me like he was considering something.

He said something to himself, so softly I could not hear it. A moment later, he placed his lips on mine again, more insistent and urgent. I responded in kind, allowing our tongues to meet and dance. Before I even realized it, I was back in his lap, straddling him. I was the one to cave this time, to groan into his mouth. Unlike myself, though, Spock was no tease. He picked me up, legs securely wrapped around his waist, and carried me. I didn’t know where he was taking me until he dropped me on the bed, which made me gasp in surprise. I didn’t have to wait long, but the devilish look on his face made it seem like an eternity before his lips met mine. His hair wasn’t neat before, but my hands made quick work of making it a disheveled mess. If I was the aggressor a few weeks ago, he was tonight. His hands wouldn’t stay put. They roamed over my neck, my hands, up and down my sides. When one finally landed on my inner thigh, I buried my head in the crook of his shoulder, panting heavily.

When he stopped moving and pulled back, I found him staring at me, eyes slowly roving up and down, probably taking in the sight like I did the last time. A stark contrast to his aggressive gestures before, he placed a hand on my cheek softly. Asking permission, or contemplating his lack of control? It was hard to tell, but whatever he found in my eyes spurred him on. He moved down, running his hands down slowly to rest on the very tops of my thighs, breathing hard into my neck. I moaned when his tongue met my nipple, a breathy, wretched sound. My hands found his hair when he sucked it into his mouth, teething at it gently. One of his hands found the other, rubbing over it and teasing with light touches. He didn’t linger long. He kissed and gently sucked his way ever further down. He stopped when he was kneeling at the end of the bed, hands on the outside of my thighs and panting a few inches of my sex. When I forced myself to open my eyes and look down, his eyes were dark, half-lidded and filled with something primal. I clenched my thighs lightly around his ears in encouragement. Being a logical man of no emotions whatsoever, he eagerly dove in, licking a solid stripe from the bottom up before delving his tongue into my pussy. His movements were slow and languid, moving slowly around my clit, circling downwards and working his way back up. It was positively sinful, the way my hips rolled against him, grinding down, wanting more, please god, _more._

I must have been babbling out loud, because he placed my thighs on top of his shoulders and his hands held my hips still. His movements were more forceful, applying more pressure and probing deeper, earning wicked gasps and absolutely disgraceful moans from my traitorous mouth. My thighs began shaking, and my hands were digging, pulling at his hair, signalling my coming orgasm. When he sucked my clit into his mouth I came undone, spasming and moaning out nonsense, clenching and fisting one hand in his hair. I felt bad for his neighbors. I wasn’t exactly quiet, and Starfleet regulation walls weren’t very thick.

When I finally stilled, panting into the still air, I found him looking at me again, face half-hidden by my hand still in his hair. I giggled like a schoolgirl, taken back to my Academy days. He smiled then, a full-blown crinkling-the-corner-of-his-eyes, teeth showing smile. It was delightful, magnified immensely from my delirious afterglow. I pushed his hair back, running my fingers over his scalp. He kissed my hand and I groaned. I rubbed it on my thigh, smearing the wetness of off it.

“That’s nasty.”

“Hardly,” he chuckled, and kissed the crease on the inside of my thigh. He sighed, and sucked a mark into my inner thigh, biting it gently. When he pulled away, there was a mark, deep purple in the very center and becoming lighter until it was faint pink around the edges. He laughed into my thigh, giving in to the inherent horny teenager-ness of the situation. But the humor didn’t last long. His suckling continued along the inside of my thigh, skipping over where I wanted him most and moving outward along the other thigh. I whined and grabbed his hair again, pulling gently until his face was lined up with my pussy. Taking the hint, but wanting to tease, he dragged his lips along the outside, his morning stubble catching delightfully. Oh no, not this time. I kept my hand in his hair, and dragged him forward until he was pressed against me. He finally submitted, letting his tongue swipe along my lips, then going deeper to lap gently at my clit. Still sensitive from my last orgasm, it didn’t take me long to shamelessly grind my hips into his face, still holding him flush against me by his hair. My other hand was balled in the sheet, pulling and biting into it to keep my groans and distasteful language confined to this room only.

His tongue circling my clit, he gently ran a finger along my sex, pausing for a moment before pushing it inside. Mistaking my keening for pain, he stopped, pulling his head away and searching my face for signs of discomfort. Finding nothing but a need for more, he continued, returning his tongue to my clit and gently pumping in and out.

“Spock, fuck, _please,_ please, oh god…” I lost the capacity for words when he added another finger and delicately stroked my G-spot. The continued pressure there combined with his lips wrapped around my clit sent me over the edge. Sheet forgotten in my fist, I half-moaned half-screamed, shaking uncontrollably. Wave after wave rolled through me, from my scalp to the tips of my toes. It could have lasted seconds or minutes, my brain was too fuzzy to tell.

When I finally came back to reality, he had the side of his head resting on my right knee, the same arm thrown over my thigh from underneath, and one hand was splayed over my lower stomach, gently tracing patterns. When my breathing finally evened out, I sat up a little, patting the bed beside me. It took him a moment to stand, but once he did, it was clear why. When he finally laid beside me, his cock laid on his lower stomach, curved gently and flushed green. When did he even get naked? He welcomed me into his side, and I laid a hand on his sternum. We were both breathing heavier than normal, but evenly enough for it to be peaceful.

“I could take care of that, you know,” I murmured after a moment, letting my hand roam lower until it encountered the faint treasure trail that ended an inch or so above his bellybutton.

He looked almost confused. “Sex is not about paying it back, love. It will go away on its own, you don’t have to do anything.”

I sat up, and smacked him on the chest. “S’chn T’Gai Spock, you did not just tell me that your boner will _just go away._ I know I don’t _have_ to suck your cock, but I _want_ to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	8. Human kiss pt. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut smut... I guess? Liz goes down on Spock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *to the tune of our house* Spock's cock,, is all up in her mouth,, Spock's cock,,,,,  
((shorter chapter bc i suck at writing blowjobs,,,)

I got down on my knees, mirroring Spock’s position a few moments prior, head between thighs. He was nervous, and none too good at hiding it. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He kept moving them, resting on his stomach, laying by his hips, reaching for my hair and stopping.

“_Relax,_” I breathed onto the head of his cock, making him shiver. I reached a hand up and pressed our fingers together. This calmed him, I could feel it. Like a hard marble in the back of my head, exuding his feelings, and faintly, his sensations. I could almost feel my breath on his cock, like the ghost of a feeling I didn’t know I could have. I wonder if this was how it was for him, feeling what he was doing to me. I took his cock in one hand and pressed a soft kiss to the head of his member. I could feel the heat of my lips in that odd ghost-sensation.

Running my lips down the length and back up brought music to my ears: a breathy moan. _God,_ I would do anything to hear that on a loop, louder, right in my ears. I settled for hearing it from where I was and took the head of his cock in my mouth. I swirled my tongue around it, moaning. His precum was bitter, but not overwhelmingly so. I took him further into my mouth, pressing my tongue to the underside. I could feel his hands in my hair, pushing it back from my face and holding it lightly. I bobbed my head up and down, letting my salva coat it in a thick layer, then pushed down until this cock pressed against the back of my throat, making my eyes water. I swallowed through it and pushed a bit further, forcing my throat to relax. This earned me a strangled gasp, a gravelly groan. After a few seconds I pulled up panting, and used my hands to continue the motion. I continued like this for a few minutes, alternating between my mouth and hands, sometimes bobbing my head and using my hands to reach what my mouth didn’t.

When I ran my tongue along the slit in the head of his cock, Spock began murmuring obscenities, some in another language. Not Vulcan, there was nothing logical about how filthily those words were spilling from his mouth, my own private melody that rose and fell in cadence to my motions. I knew he was close when the hand in my hair fisted and his hips began a stuttering thrust upward. My scalp and throat stung, but I could take it.

His orgasm didn’t come suddenly. His words petered out, replaced with nonsense, and eventually guttural groans. Those too eventually died out, leaving a silence filled only with his gasping. Most of his cum made it into my mouth, but a fair amount dribbled down my lips and onto my chin. I wiped it off on the back of my hand, my wrist. When I looked back up at Spock, he was panting and laying flat, arms spread on the bed slightly. I crawled up next to him, knees popping from maintaining my position on the floor. I laid on my side, and pulled one of his hands into both of my own. Faint buzzing, not as intense as usual.

“Nuh-uh, no passing out on me, sleepyhead.” His eyes cracked open, glossy and tired. He rolled over, half-on top of me, trapping me in an embrace. It was comfortable for a few moments, but I quickly grew overheated. His skin was practically boiling. Against my better judgment, I pushed him off of me and grabbed his hand again, trying to pull him up to sit with me. “C’mon, we both need a shower.”

“You just had one,” he mumbled into the sheets.

“And I need another now that my _human needs_ have been sated. And you need one too, we’re both a hot sweaty mess.” I finally dragged him to his feet and into the bathroom, stumbling slightly.

The shower was quick and soon filled the bathroom with the smell of my fancy body wash, reserved for date nights and special occasions. Except for a few chaste pecks on the lips and holding hands for a moment, it was efficient. We dressed in robes, and I combed my hair beside him as he straightened his hair into its usual bowl-shape, framing his forehead and cheekbones. I always wondered how he got it to stay like that, never even considered that he set it while it was wet.

We climbed into bed, worn-out and sleepy. He pulled me into him again, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his chest to my back. After cooling off in the shower, his heat was welcome, comforting. I was almost asleep when the gentle beeping of my communicator sounded from the pile of my clothes on the bathroom floor.

My eyes snapped open, scrambling. “Shit!” I grabbed my clothes off the floor, hurriedly yanking the uniform on. “I have a shift in twenty minutes. Fuck!” As I rushed out the door, Spock gave a small wave before snuggling further into the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	9. Obligatory Period Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how it be ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god why. Why jesus christ am I doomed to suffer every month holy shit. Anyone want a uterus, free of charge?

Dear god. Dear god in heaven, whatever gods or goddesses are out there, _make it stop._ I twisted and wriggled on the bed, trying to find a position that didn’t feel like my lower gut was being ripped in half by an angry Targ. My usually very comfy bed was failing me.

I didn’t bother to acknowledge the chiming of my door. Whoever it was would have to deal with seeing me balled up in something resembling child’s pose with my face buried in the pillow. Thank god, it was only Spock. I could feel him walking closer, could sense his vague concern and the feeling of the floor beneath his feet. He placed a soothing hand on my back, rubbing slowly in small circles.

“This is ridiculous,” he said softly. “I’m going to Med Bay for painkillers.” He started to pull away, but I turned and grabbed his hand.

“_You will not,_” I hissed before turning back around, snuggling further into the covers. “I’ll be damned before McCoy knows about my period.”

“Nonsense. He’s a medical professional, he deals with this all the time.” He started to pull away again, and almost managed to escape my grip. I pulled him down next to me, pushing him around until he was snuggling me from behind.

“Just stay _here._” I mumbled into his forearm. His hand splayed across my lower stomach felt nice, the warmth almost calming my vicious cramps. Almost.

We laid there for a time, the only sound our soft breathing. That is, until a particularly rough cramp ripped through me, forcing out a whimper into the pillow. Soft fingers caressed my face, my shoulder, brushing the hair back. His face settled into the crook of my neck. I whimpered again, a pathetic sound that the pillow did little to muffle. A kiss on my neck, and then the presence behind me was gone. I flung a hand behind me, searching for Spock. Nothing but a warm imprint met my fingers. Fine, I guess. I curled inward, face screwed slightly.

Fingers in my hair, rubbing at my scalp gently. I heard a mug being set down, and he sat on the bed in front of me. “How do you do this every month? It seems debilitating, being stuck in bed and in pain.” I sat up slightly, grabbing the mug from the nightstand. Hot chocolate, god bless.

“It’s usually not this bad, honey. Sometimes when I’m stressed the week before, it gets bad, but this is… next level. I’ve had worse, though.” I stopped to sip at the sweet concoction, relishing the creaminess. I set the mug down and patted the bed next to me when he raised an eyebrow, urging me to elaborate. “In middle school and the first half of high school, it used to get bad enough that I would pass out from the pain. It’s okay,” I said, taking in his concerned expression. “It’s not as bad as it used to be. God, my mom used to have to take me out of school for a week. At least now I can get back to work after the first few days.” He nodded, pulling the covers up around us. I was almost sitting now, and not as curled around myself as I was half an hour ago.

“Still, I apologize that you have to go through this.”

I chuckled, snuggling into his side. “You don’t have to apologize, love. Honestly, the actual bleeding is worse than the cramps. Getting blood out of a blue uniform is a _nightmare._”

Comfortable silence now, as I drank the cocoa and he read a report on his PADD. When I finished my drink, I set the mug back down on the nightstand. I wrapped myself around Spock, settling in so my head was on his chest, arms around his middle. His hand settled on my back, small movements, lulling me towards sleep. My cramps were finally relenting, and as we both skimmed the report, I drifted off to sleep, relishing in the warmth and comfort that he brought me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	10. Obligatory Depression Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you know how it be lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's been in a depressive spiral lol amiright ladies

A chime sounded at my door. Great. Just great. I looked like shit, I’d been up all night laying in bed and reading, flipping back and forth between several books, none of which had caught my attention. So I guess my caller would see me at my worst: rumpled sleeping clothes, tangled and knotted hair, and dark circles under lifeless eyes.

I stood and opened the door myself. Spock stood there, holding himself as stiff as usual. “Oh good, ’s only you,” I mumbled as I flopped myself back down on the bed. Back to the warmth of the covers, suddenly seeming much more inviting than they had a few moments ago.

“Liz.” I grunted in response, hauling myself around so that I could face him. He was still standing, still looking like he was about to give a speech in front of an Academy class. “You’ve been exhibiting some worrying signs.”

Oh good, another lecture on how I needed to take better care of myself. I flipped completely over, laying on my back but tangled uncomfortably in the blanket. “And what about it?”

He sat down next to me, and if I were anyone else, he would look as he always did, but I could see it as well as sense it; he was worried, and a little bit scared. “You’ve been suffering from depression for a long time, haven’t you?” The question came quietly, like he was afraid to upset me with it.

I ran a hand over my face, sighing quietly. _Dammit._ “Yeah, Spock, I have. Some weeks are worse than others, I guess.” He placed a hand lightly on my face, fingers ghosting over my jaw and cheekbone. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and he stayed silent for a time. Eventually he retracted his hand and rubbed at his eyes roughly.

“I could feel it, you know.” My questioning look cued him in to my confusion. “These past few weeks, your waves of hopelessness, that _crushing apathy._ Our bond is strong, and I’ve been struggling to distinguish between your feelings and my own.”

Son of a bitch. I never meant for that to happen. I always forgot that our bond went both ways, that he could feel me just as much as I could feel him. “Then sever it.” The look of indignation, surprise, anger, of _pain_ that met my suggestion was crushing, like a great weight on my chest.

“You… wish to terminate our relationship?” I shook my head, mentally cursing my eyes for wanting to release the tears that had begun building.

“No, not at all, I just… don’t want you to feel the way that I do. I don’t want to infect you with my shitty brain chemistry. It’s bad enough that I feel this way, I don’t want you to feel that, too.”

“Ashayam…” he said softly. He cradled my face, bringing his own close to press our foreheads together. “You are not a disease,” he murmured. Traitorous tears began falling down my cheeks, dripping onto my chest in a silent display.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. “Medication doesn’t help, neither does exercise or meditation. I’ve tried everything, and _nothing works._”

He pulled away to stand. “Let’s start with the basics, then. When did you last have a proper meal?”

I sat silently, walking myself backwards chronologically, thinking hard.

“Um. Two days ago?”

“_Liz!_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	11. A Stray Piece of Pipe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long battle results in numerous injuries, especially among the Med Bay Staff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let bones say fuck

“Get that cut, Iverson. Liz, help me with these ribs.” I rushed to Bones’ side, grabbing the ensign's shirt to tear it open. No time for scissors, we had to work fast during sustained battles. The flow of people into Sick Bay had begun half an hour ago, with more still arriving by the minute. It wouldn’t let up soon, either, if the rumbling and pitching of the ship and panel overload explosions were anything to go by.

I held down the boy under me, stilling his squirming as McCoy popped the dislocated ribs into place one by one. They made sick popping noises as they settled, and I couldn’t help my wince. Bones gave it up for a minute, stopping to administer a hypo to sedate the young ensign before he had to suffer any more than he already had.

I had just turned to help Chapel pull a man with a cut leg onto a medical bed when the wall to my left exploded. Brilliant sparks dulled my vision for a few moments, and a ringing in my ears indicated that at least one of my eardrums had ruptured. When I could finally see and hear normally again I looked around, dazed. Looked like some med staff had gotten caught up in the explosion, but most of them were still focused on the more severe patients. I tried to stand, to push myself into a seated position at least, but a sharp, tearing pain above my navel left me gasping, falling back to the floor. My neck strained, trying to get a view of myself without setting off that pain again.

Oh. A piece of pipe lodged in your torso kind of made it hard to move, huh? I almost chuckled to myself, thinking about the ridiculousness of this situation. What kind of lucky son of a bitch gets injured in a med bay?

I scooted closer to the wall, shifting in tiny motions, using my legs and arms to avoid moving my midsection. A nurse finally noticed me, rushing over to pull me into a chair. “Go,” I rasped, looking around for resources. He started to protest but I silenced him with a firm look. “_I’m fine,_ just get me some supplies and go help _him!_” I gestured to a man being carried in by two people, burned to the bone on his shoulder and neck. He relented, setting his mouth in a hard line and passing me a tray of equipment and gauze.

I had just begun to pull the cloth away from the pipe that was protruding two inches above my navel when a communications beep caught my attention. “Med Bay, we’re all good now. We’re heading to the closest starbase for repairs and additional medical teams. Please report.” Spock’s voice sounded tired, strained. Everyone else was busy attending to their critical patients.

I pushed a button on the wall panel beside me. “Evans here. Multiple life-threatening injuries, mostly lacerations, burns, and broken bones.” My head was beginning to swim. “Oh, and then there’s me, I suppose. I got a new piercing, babe, hope you like broken pipes.”

“What...what exactly does that mean, Liz?”

Loopy means I’m going into shock. Had to think straight, had to get this taken care of. “Something exploded, and I got… uh I got impaled, I guess. I’m… actually, babe, I gotta go. I gotta get started on this before I pass out.” I hit the panel button again, cutting off whatever he was going to say. I pushed gauze into the edges of the puncture, hissing at the tearing pain. Now came the painful part. I had to flex and twist gently to determine how deep it had gone and what all it had torn. My face contorted as I forced myself to move. Definitely ruined a bunch of intestine, my transverse colon was obliterated, and the bottom of my stomach felt like it was stapled to my spine. That wasn’t good.

My vision was beginning to fade around the edges. Fuck. Needed help, “please, somebody please help me…” My weak cries went unheard in the enclosed space, drowned out by moaning and yelling. I tried to stand, to move over to them to get their attention. My legs failed and I crumpled to the floor on my right side, knocking my breath out and setting my abdomen on fire. My vision was only a small pinprick at the end of a tunnel now. Strange, the way the wall moved like that. Oh, I was facing the door. Shoes approaching me, a face. Was that Spock? The identification had just crossed my mind when my vision disappeared entirely, leaving the inky void of unconsciousness, finally relieved of pain.

-

A soft whispering, faint beeping, the sounds of some kind of machine. Soft voices.

“She’s back.” My eyes weren’t even open yet, but I could feel him there, could feel the intense worry and fear, of anger. His hand squeezed my own, and finally I allowed the brilliant light to enter my eyes. It was blinding, for a moment. When they finally readjusted, I found two people looming over me, staring at me intensely. One was my lover, disheveled and sporting a cut across the bridge of his nose. The other was my dear friend and boss, sporting crossed arms and a look that could kill.

“You had us fuckin’ worried, Liz.” He unfolded his arms, moving to run a scanner over me. “Had to get you into surgery. You’ll have a faint scar, because you didn’t let anyone fuckin’ _help you_ when you got _fuckin’ impaled._” Bones pushed a few buttons before starting to walk away. A pause, a mumbled ‘glad you’re alive,’ and he was back checking on other patients.

“You did, you know.” I turned my head to give Spock a questioning look. “Have us worried.” He collapsed into the chair next to my bed, dropping my hand to run it over his face, rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey.” My voice came out raspy, my throat currently being dry as all hell. I pulled his hand from his face, placing it on my cheek. “I’m okay, and that’s what matters.” Leaning was difficult, the burning stabbing through whatever painkillers I was on. I placed my forehead on his, mirroring his hand on my cheek. My thumb brushed his cheekbone, his hairline. He smelled of sweat and exposed wiring. It took him a few minutes to relax, to take in the waves of calm and peace that I sent him through our bond. He finally sighed, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before pushing me back down in bed.

“I have to check on the captain. He is refusing medical attention for his concussion, and I must convince him that no, it won’t go away on its own.”

“Tell him I’ll kick his ass, even as gimpy as I am now.”

A small smile, a sense of relief. “A serious threat, doctor.” And he walked away, to tend to his ridiculously egotistical friend. I could feel his continued concern for me, fading slightly with the distance. Every few moments, his mind would drift back to me, the feelings of concern rising and falling as he convinced himself that I really was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	12. Annual Physicals Are a Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annual physicals on the Enterprise means overworking even the best of doctors.

The time had come for annual physicals. Complete scans and in-depth surveys and screenings for every single resident aboard the ship. That meant enduring an irritated, fussy Bones for hours, overtime, double shifts. It meant dealing with sore, blistered feet, grinding knees, an aching back.

But I pushed through. No way something as trivial bodily care would prevent me from providing… bodily care… to the crewmates. Yeah, I was being stupid about it, but I only wanted to finish the work so that things could go back to normal. Normal meant occupying most of my time with research. Documenting alien physiology, writing reports on new treatments we’d discovered, having spare time to look at others’ research.

It was no help at all that the captain had become a major nuisance about making his Bridge staff unavailable for their tests, which meant rescheduling dozens of testings and procedures. I had finally managed to sift through everyone, and was compiling a list of the most urgently needed procedures and tests, god, _so many tests._

Frantically jamming my fingers onto the surface of my PADD, I didn’t notice the door chime for my office. It went ignored, as did the gentle sound of the door sliding open. It wasn’t until I felt a hand on my upper back that I noticed the presence behind me.

“Spock, you scared the shit outta me. Give a girl some warning next time.” No response. I tore my eyes away from the screen again, and was met with a mouth set in a firm line and a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?”

“You said you were going to meet me for dinner an hour ago.” Oh, _fuuuuuuck!_

I rubbed at my eyes, slumping in the chair. “I’m sorry, love, I got overwhelmed with these goddamn physicals. We finally finished with the general scans, and then Bones asked me to make a list of everything else we need to do, and I keep thinking about Anderson’s swollen lymph nodes that have no discernable cause, and I just… I’m sorry. Do you want to go now? I desperately need to get out of here.”

“No.”

The quiet but hard negative stopped me in my tracks. I had started to stand, to take off my lab coat, but I froze when I heard his answer.

“No?”

“No.” He pushed me back down into the chair, turning it so that I was facing away from him.

“I don’t understa--_ohhhh…_” Prodding hands had begun pushing into my back, kneading at the muscles that I didn’t even realize were so tense. He began at my traps, pressing down and outward until he met my shoulders, then moved his hands between my shoulder blades to work at the muscles there.

“Not that I’m complaining, but--oh, _god,_ um… why the sudden treat? I figured you’d want to--” I paused to hiss at the tension in my neck, a bilateral pain that responded slowly to his ministrations. “To-to uh… go eat.”

Spock’s response never interrupted the deft movements of his fingers. “You’re overworked and remarkably tense. Dinner is irrelevant when you’re in such a state.” Soothing, his fingers trailed over my spine, applying pressure to certain spots that left them tingling. His final poke was at the base of my skull, and it caused every muscle in my torso to buzz, then go blissfully, mercifully limp. Vulcans and their magic psychic fingers, how could I forget?

I slumped forward on the desk, folding my arms to rest my head. I peered at him through the strands of my hair, eyes squinting but sparkling. I felt _divine._

“Wanna go grab a bite in my quarters? I can pay you back after, cause I’m not the only one who’s tense, _Commander._” I terse nod, a hand to help me up. It felt like I was walking on a cloud, but the feeling was slowly fading, losing power from whatever psychic energy he imparted to me. We walked slowly, hand in hand, to my quarters for a light meal and some lazy lovemaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	13. A Lunch Date on Esallna IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> owo the most romantic planet in the explored galaxy you say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> totally self indulgent... I say as if this whole goddamn fic isn't ridiculously self indulgent

Soft hands, pressed against my own. There was the softest hint of flowers in the air, the feeling of saltwater on my skin. Light filtered down in soft golden swatches through tall reeds, swaying in a light breeze.

A shore leave date. My god, what _else,_ would be so perfect?

Spock, the cunning bastard, had promised me a lunch on the planet, and brought me to the parks of St. Gellemensthe on Esallna IV. One of the most notably romantic spots for couples and relationships in the _entirety_ of explored space. Cool. Cool cool cool, no pressure at all.

He even brought along a little picnic basket, topped with a blanket. A little corny, maybe, but I leaned into it as a general rule. Corny can be good when someone _makes it_ good, you know?

A gentle hollow in the sand provided us with a great spot to spread the blanket, and he took his time setting out lunch. Napkin, plate, fork, glass, napkin, plate, fork, glass, placing each one in the perfectly correct place. If I measured, they would have been exact. Had he been practicing this?

When he poured the wine, that’s when I noticed it. The tiny tremor in his hands, the strictly controlled pulses of excitement and nervousness and joy.

“Okay, Casanova, spill it. What’s up with the fancy-ass date, Mr. Please-Join-Me-For-A-Midday-Meal-On-Esallna-IV-If-Convenient?” Two blinks, slow and deliberate.

“You did request that I invest more interest in expressing myself in more traditionally romantic ways, no?” God damn it, those puppy dog eyes always got me. Honest, open. A kiss on his nose, a soft press of forehead on forehead.

“Still corny,” I giggled, and broke apart to laugh more fully.

We ate in silence, only a soft exclamation and murmurs breaking the peace when a diving bird or polished seashell was spotted. It was warm, comfortable, and completely open. Wave after wave of emotion splashed between us. Serenity, affection, appreciation, desire.

The food long forgotten, we allowed ourselves the indulgence of each other, skin smooth under tongues and fingers. Our enjoyment was slow, gentle, unhurried in the slightest.

When finally we were satiated, panting in the calming sea air, we laid with enough space between us for the breeze to cool our skin. I traced a line down his arm, stopping at his fingers at my waist. I could feel his heartbeat, as sure and steady as my own.

“You’re still holding something back, ashayam,” I murmured after a pregnant silence.

No nervousness now, no tremor. He was confident in something, elated about _something._ “I wanted to ask you something important.” He sat up, pulling me with him. Our faces and bodies were close, almost touching. I could feel the warmth emanating from his skin, so tantalizingly close to my own.

“I was hoping you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.” His back was ramrod straight, legs tense. His hands were pressed to his thighs, pressing through any residual shaking. His posture didn’t match his words, which were soft and absolute.

Shock. Not at his question, we had discussed marriage before, but at the presentation. The most romantic known planet, the wonderful lunch and _activities,_ it made sense now. I leaned forward to place my hands on the sides of his face, press my forehead to his own. I let my bursts of happiness, joy, contentment wash over him, then pulled away, trying to hide the glistening in my eyes.

“Spock… yes, of course, a million times yes. But only on one condition.”

“Anything, ashayam.” He looked determined, dead serious. I took one of his hands in both of my own, holding lightly.

“You have to promise me something.” A nod, resolute. “You have to promise… to catch me!” And I was off, running across the hot sand towards the water. I didn’t look back, didn’t see the smile on his face or his lovestruck eyes. My feet had barely begun splashing in the water when I heard him behind me, surprisingly close considering my head start.

He almost got me when I was thigh-deep, almost managed to grab my arm. But I twisted, dancing away from him at an angle. I could hardly see for all the water we were kicking up. We ran for a while, twirling around each other. When he managed to catch one of my hands, I pulled hard, dragging him underwater. He splashed up not a moment later, gasping and glistening in the brilliant sun. He pulled me under when he got his bearings, and I floundered, trying to make out which way was up. Strong arms pulled me up and out, securely holding me against a firm chest. I blinked the water out of my eyes, pushed wet strands of hair out of my face.

“You caught me.”

Spock was smiling down at me, droplets meandering down his face, his neck. “I’ll always catch you, Liz.” I smacked him on his chest, a wet slap that echoed lightly across the calm water. “You do have short legs compared to mine.” A mischievous glint in his eyes gave away his intentions, and I kicked my legs, wriggling, trying to get away before he flipped me over his shoulder to carry me like a sack of potatoes. My efforts failed, and his hot hands on my thighs secured my position over his shoulder despite my kicking feet.

“Fine. You win. Carry me back to shore, you towering giant. _Seriously,_” I squealed, smacking his ass. “Take me back, please.” And he began walking slowly back to shore, the ends of my hair dragging in the salty water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	14. Obligatory Valentine's Day Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you know what it be like
> 
> its not even february why am i horny for romance

“I’m _not_ saying that, I’m only saying that I know that you care about him. And if that’s more important than spending time with me on a cheesy holiday, that’s _fine._”

“Jim can manage without me for one night at a bar. I don’t understand why you’ve become so agitated about this, Liz.”

“Okay, right there. We’re walking down a hallway, having a civilized conversation, and bam, _I’m agitated?_” I stopped walking, pulling on his hand to get him to stop, too. “Listen, I understand that Jim needs a friend to hold onto after this mission. Now I’d _like_ to spend Valentine’s day with my fiance, but I recognize that Jim is having a rough time and needs you. So stop being a stubborn jackass to me and go be a stubborn jackass to him.” With that I turned around, heading back to Med Bay. I could do my reports there, didn’t want to have to clean up my quarters just yet.

Fucker. Yeah, I made plans, replicated some of our favorite foods, including a _very_ chocolaty dessert, bribed Scotty for a bottle of rum, found myself a nice little dress to sit pretty in before it was presumably ripped off. But so what? Some annual overhyped holiday meant nothing when Jim almost died, and had the misfortune of watching others die in front of him without being able to do anything about it. That clearly supersedes any sort of romantic endeavor.

I sighed and pressed my hands flat on my desk, letting my head fall forward. All the anger and frustration had drained out of me, leaving only concern for my captain and my love. A cough startled me out of my contemplation, made me whip around.

“Lookin’ a little rough around the edges, darlin’.” Bones was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest. He looked amused, if a little sad. I turned the rest of the way around and hopped up to sit on my desk.

“Spock,” I started to say, but was cut off by a raised hand.

“Say no more.” He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with two glasses and what I learned about half an hour later was whiskey.

We had settled on the floor at some point, leaning against the wall and passing the bottle back and forth, sticky glasses abandoned on my desk. A bitch session had slowly evolved into an all-out drunken rambling moan-and-groan.

“And then, _and then,_” I slurred, “he goes an’ says’at Jim doesn’ need him. Jim doesn’ need him! Like th’ whole fuckin’ galaxy doesn’ know Jim needs’m more’n… more’n… Bones, whats some’in’ that needs some’in’? Bones?” I swung my head to the right, looking away from my flailing hands for a moment. He was snoozing gently, bottle still in his hand, resting against his stomach. I sighed. I was way too blasted for this.

I took the bottle from him, trying my hardest not to knock it over. It clunked loudly against the glass surface of my desk, startling my boss awake.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” His eyes were squinting, searching, looking side to side before settling on my kneeling form.

“C’mon,” I mumbled, shuffling towards him. Pulling us up to our feet was a struggle, stumbling and bumping into each other and the walls. We finally settled into a stable stance, his arm wrapped around my shoulders and mine around his waist. Walking was a little more of a challenge, with tangling feet and floors that kept lurching.

Finally, the door to his quarters started slowly approaching. I was afraid we weren’t gonna make it. Bones almost fell, almost crashed into a wall before I could steady him again. It took him at least three tries to punch in his code, and he crashed into bed, face smushed into a pillow.

“You good? Need anything?” A grunt and a loose thumbs up flung in my general direction sent me on my way, leaving only a wave behind. The journey two decks down to my quarters went by a little smoother. I could find my balance easier without his weight, wasn’t thrown off by his longer footsteps.

My room was almost exactly how I had left it, with my dress flung over a chair, food and desert spread out on the counter, lights at fifty percent. The only thing different was a small vase of flowers on the table, a small envelope set in front of it.

I bumped lightly into the table, almost knocking over the beautiful arrangement. Roses and baby’s breath. What a romantic idiot. The note only affirmed my opinion.

_Liz,_

_I apologize for my behavior earlier today. It was uncalled for.  
You were right. Jim did need me tonight. He almost went home with a group of people who claimed they were going to offer him “a good time.”  
Please enjoy the flowers. I’m told roses are traditional on Valentine’s Day._

_Nash-veh ashaya du.  
Spock_

Cute little green fucker. I set the note back down, and pushed the flowers back into the center of the table. Falling into bed was easy and comfortable, at least until the spins kicked in. Eventually, though, it passed, and I drifted off into an easy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	15. Obligatory Pon Farr Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> listen im depressed, im horny, and i crave emotional release. sue me

Small drops of sweat had begun gathering on my forehead. Spock had adjusted the thermostat in our quarters, made it hotter and drier, more like the climate on Old Vulcan. His Pon Farr was approaching, and he was attempting to meditate away the intense energy that was beginning to course through him.

I had noticed the symptoms almost a week ago, his sweating palms, the sudden lack of control over reigning in his inhuman strength. He had begun to get more aggressive, angry and short-tempered. He snapped at me once, when I had forgotten to place our laundry in the ship’s washroom. That resulted in a heated discussion which ended in me pointing out everything that I had noticed and him quietly resigning to bed without another word. The next day or two had been tense, but we quickly came to the consensus that we only had a silly spat and that we needed to support each other during the trials to come.

Today, though, his meditation was rocky. Normally, he was silent and still, emanating a sense of peace and willful determination, but now he was fidgeting, fingers tapping his knee, giving off the feeling of restlessness and frustration. Restlessness and frustration, it seemed like those were the only things we had been feeling lately.

I finally gave up trying to stay cool and threw on a tank top and shorts, forgoing the t-shirt and pants I had been meaning to wear today. I flopped on the bed, relishing in the momentary cool that the untouched fabric brought. But then my body heat sunk in, creating a heat trap that left me, somehow, sweating even more. I sighed, and brought my arm up to ruffle Spock’s hair, mussing it so that it stood almost straight up.

“Give it a rest, space cowboy, you haven’t been able to meditate for days now.” He shook his head, eyes remaining closed. I rolled onto the floor, letting my limbs flop. His leg against my arm felt a normal temperature for once, which probably meant that I was so overheated I was on his heat level. Oh well, at least we were well-hydrated.

I shuffled into a seated position in front of him, as I had many times before. Hands on his face and a gentle shaking of his head was enough to break his want to meditate.

“Why don’t you just lean into it?” I asked softly, and the dark eyes in front of me were holding back something primal, something dark. It looked into the deepest parts of me, ignited a flame south of my belly button.

His hands mirrored mine, placed on my cheeks and giving a gentle shake. “Because _I don’t want to hurt you._” The words came quiet but insistent. The expression on his face was one of great pain, of intense restraint.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” I said, dragging my nails along his scalp just above the nape of his neck, “and if you do, we both know that I’m capable of _fixing_ anything that might happen.” Our faces were close, almost touching, and his breath came hot and fast on my face. A moment of near-silence, so tense and pregnant that it was nearly unbearable as he flicked his eyes over me, taking in my exposed skin, eyeing a stray bead of sweat that ran down my neck.

And then he was crashing into me in every sense of the word, all teeth, fingers tearing at my clothes and digging into my hips, harsh sounds in the back of his throat. I responded in kind, pulling at his tunic and hair, grinding my hips and arching my back off of the bed that had suddenly reappeared underneath me.

I began to reach for his hardening cock, but strong hands stilled my movements. “_No,_” he said, bringing my hands up above my head, firmly holding them still. He allowed the motions of my hips, but not the use of my hands. Interesting.

His teeth left indentations in my shoulder, above and below my collarbone, the top of my breast. Each bite left me gasping, relishing in the sweet sting that only made it hotter. His other hand, independent of his bordering-on-too-hard bites, had begun traveling lower, lower, lower, until it reached the upper bounds of my pussy. The two fingers shoved into my vagina with little preparation left me squirming, struggling to adjust to the sudden presence. It wasn’t unwelcome, just unexpected.

His fingers began their ministrations after a brief moment to allow me to adjust. He pushed them in and out slowly at first, then quickly picked up speed as I gasped into his neck. Each sensation layered on top of each other, quickly bringing me to near-orgasm within a couple of minutes. I was left panting and weaving a litany of expletives in the still air. He removed his fingers before I could climax, bringing him to his mouth with an inscrutable expression. The way his tongue moved around his fingers, the way his lips moved on his hand, it sent a shiver down my spine in a good way, providing a brief chill in the otherwise hot room.

The hard hand on my wrists finally relented when his hands pushed my thighs apart, dragging his hands from knee to groin, posture poised and tense. The feeling of his hands dragging against my sweat-slicked skin was _delicious._ His face was hidden in shadow, obscured by his position directly below the light fixture. It accentuated the lines of his body, throwing his angles into sharp relief.

He pushed into me slowly, pausing when the head of his cock was sheathed. He was straining, forcing himself to slow down and take his time. I reached up to him, pulling on his arm, his shoulder, his neck, until he was face-to-face with me, eye-to-eye.

“Relax into it, baby. Do what you need to do, you’re not gonna break me.” Something in his eyes changed as he let go, hardened and morphed until he was almost unrecognizable, lost in some primal part of him that I had never witnessed before.

A growl was the only warning before I was flipped over, landing on my stomach and pulled up so that I was on my hands and knees. I let myself settle onto my elbows, anticipating perfectly the time it would take for him to line his cock up with my pussy. He paused again when the tip of his dick was buried, and I pushed my hips back slowly, allowing him to sink fully into me. His hands had settled on my hips at some point, and with every inch that his cock pushed inside me, his fingertips dug into my skin, leaving crescent-shaped imprints from his fingernails and bruises from the pressure.

The feeling of his hands on my hips, however, went largely unnoticed due to the feeling of his cock. Large, burning hot, and pressing lightly against my cervix, it provided a feeling of being filled, stretched almost to burning. That feeling lasted only a second as Spock pulled back, then slammed back into me. He began setting a brutal pace, pulling back only to push back into me in less than a second. It left me a mewling mess in minutes, crying out into the sheets and fisting my hands. Absolutely filthy sounds were coming from behind me, pants and groans and _oh fuck_s.

That coil in my lower stomach began tightening again, and I bit into the sheets to silence my wails. But my shoulders and knees had begun aching, grinding against each other more than my fiance and I were. The feeling of orgasm was denied me as my discomfort grew.

“Hold on, hold on,” I mumbled, pushing him back and away from me so that I could clamber up. I pulled him towards me, bracing my back against the headboard and wrapping my legs around his waist. He pulled on my thighs, settling into the position and beginning to fuck up into me again. This position was easier on my knees and shoulders, as I was almost entirely supported by Spock and the headboard. It also allowed for more pressure against my clit and G-spot, and it didn’t take me long to reach my first orgasm. It was intense, with my hips grinding against his of their own accord, one hand grasping his hair and the other clinging to a bicep.

But after a moment, it passed, but the continued pleasure did not. He didn’t stop fucking me throughout my orgasm, but his pace did slow, hips looping slowly and steadily. When I was fully present again, his face was hovering less than an inch from my own, eyes dark and different, needy and dominant. Sweat had finally begun forming on his skin, the intensity of our activity and the heat of the room finally getting to him. Our eye contact didn’t last long. He bent his head down, lining up with my neck. The bite was hard, and made me cry out. It hurt, and not a little, as it was just to the left of my windpipe, a claiming mark. He stayed there for a moment, teeth unmoving in contrast with his thrusts, which were beginning to speed up. I could tell he was close from the shaking in his muscles, the clenching of his jaw.

When he finally let go of my neck, I flexed it, trying out the feeling. It was more than a little bruised, and kind of swollen, but it wasn’t damaged at all. Bending it forward was alright, at least. And bend it forward I did, pulling him down to press our slick foreheads together. I moved my hips more, grinding down against him and pressing our chests together. It was slippery, and the only sounds were our panting breaths and the sound of skin sliding against sweaty skin.

It didn’t take long for me to climax again, not with him looking at me like that. The clenching, the spasming of my body against his was evidently what he needed to send him over the edge. His hips stuttered up once, twice, three times before he buried his face in my shoulder, stilling entirely.

A moment passed, two, before he let go, falling backwards and letting me fall on top of him. His feet were still underneath him despite being on his back, which couldn’t have been comfortable, especially considering my extra weight. But he was silent and still, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. A few minutes of silence as we both evened our breathing, a few more as (some of the) sweat began dissipating.

“Hey,” I rasped, poking his chest with a weak finger. “You alive in there?” Spock cracked his eyes, letting them roam before landing on me. Whatever I saw in his eyes before, it was fading fast. A light squeeze on my arm and his eyes were closed again. I poked him again, harder this time. I pushed myself up to hover over him. Poke, poke, poke, and his eyes opened again, out of focus but alighting on me all the same. “I know it takes a few days for your hormones to go back to normal, but can I turn the heat down now? Pardon my French, but I’m fucking dying here.” A groan and he pushed me off of him, rolling so that he was lying face down, one arm supporting his head.

_ **Smack!** _

A sharp yelp and a red handprint appeared on his ass. “There’s no way you’re passing out _upside down_ on the bed while I have _jizz_ dripping out of me, asshole. So get up and get in the shower with me before I make your asscheeks match.” I wasn’t too messed up now, but I could tell that I was gonna be _very_ sore in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	16. Pon Farr Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rough sex results in some soreness that Liz won't let Spock easily forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pt. 3 is on the way owo

I was right when I thought that I’d be sore in the morning, but _god_ did I underestimate just how much. I woke up in a haze, a few moments of blissful calm before the pain set in. It felt like my knees and shoulders had been replaced with rocks grinding against each other, and the bruises on my neck, shoulders, and chest ached with every breath. I looked around, but Spock was nowhere to be seen. I suppose he had a shift, but I don’t know how he was walking around when I could only hobble. The discomfort in my nether regions wasn’t too bad, but dear god, what had I gotten myself into?

The mirror showed a ravaged creature that took me a few minutes to recognize as myself. Most of the bruising was relatively minor, but the bite mark on my neck was deep purple, stark against my skin. It was unmistakable what had occured last night given one look at me. I set about covering up, opting for a decorative scarf to hide my neck and some heavy-duty concealer for the bruises that peeked out. This was going to be a difficult shift, though I was looking forward to the painkillers lying in wait for me.

I got a few funny looks from nurses and a question about my scarf, but for the most part I was left alone. Except for Bones, that is. One look at my posture and attire, and he pulled me into his office, waiting for the door to slide shut before starting his lecture.

“Now, you know that me an’ Jim don’t have a problem with crew fraternization, but flaunting it like this? You should know better than this, Liz, it’s almost like-”

I silenced him by removing my scarf. The bruise seemed more vibrant in the industrial lighting than it had in my quarters. “You, me, and Jim are the only ones that know about Spock’s Pon Farr. I’m not flaunting it, I’m trying to keep it on the down-low. I don’t care if you think it’s tactless, but I’m not about to show up looking like I just walked out of a shuttlecraft crash.”

He seemed surprised by this, but gave a shrug anyways. “Will you at least use a dermal regenerator on those?” He waggled a finger at the bruises.

I laughed, moving to cover my neck again. “No way. I’ll grab a painkiller, but I’m not gonna give up blackmail material like this. Back rubs, wine, and flowers, here I come!” Some shared laughter, and we were back to our duties, minding our patients and compiling research. About halfway through my shift, Spock came in. With a cough from Bones, the staff cleared out, running errands and making their way to labs. He looked sheepish, and thumbed the edge of my scarf.

“I… apologize, ashayam.” I pulled it off in response, showing off my markings. His brows drew together, remorse evident when he traced his fingers over my neck.

I hopped up on a biobed, thankful for an excuse to take weight off my feet. “You did quite a number on me, commander. Had to take a painkiller for it. Not your fault, I suppose, but your actions are yours all the same.”

He stepped forward, lips brushing lightly over his claiming bite. “I’ll make it up to you, t’hy’la,” he murmured. The declaration, the term of endearment drew a shiver down my spine, sending goosebumps down my arms and sides.

“Is that a promise, darling?” My question was practically moaned against his neck, quiet but insistent. His hand came up to rest on my thigh.

“You know I always keep my word,” he growled, nipping at my earlobe. I sighed, and pushed him a half-step away. He seemed confused, a little angry at the separation.

“Your hormones are still getting away from you. And I’m still more than a little, ah, _sore_ at the moment. If you still intend to keep your promise, you’re going to have to wait a couple days.”

He seemed to reign something within himself in, stepping backward and resuming his usual stance. “My intentions are clear, Liz. I’ll leave you to your duties, for now. I’ll see you this evening?” I nodded, then hopped off the bed to rub at my face after he had gone. That man was going to be the death of me, I swear to god.

The next few days passed in much the same fashion, with Spock reassuring me that he would make up the damage he had caused during his Pon Farr. The slick bastard had a way of cornering me, making me weak in the knees with the filth whispered into my ear, then disappearing before anyone could see the state he had left me in. With all this buildup, he better make the wait damn worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	17. Pon Farr pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part to Spock's Pon Farr. Who knew that pleasing your mating partner had such a big part?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life kicked my ass, have some horny rambling ya nerds

Finally, _finally,_ I woke up and wasn’t sore. I found most of my bruises gone or almost entirely faded, other than that damn claiming mark. It had remained, an almost sickly shade of green-grey. Spock’s brain chemistry had returned almost entirely to normal, though some residual... horniness had remained.

I went about my shift as normal, though my thoughts drifted towards that hard marble in the back of my mind, my connection with my fiance. I could sense the change in his brain chemistry, as no doubt he could sense my newly regained physical health. There was an unspoken exchange, a sense of planning for tonight. A feeling of excitement, controlled mischief.

My uneventful shift ended, for once on schedule with Spock’s. Intentional on his part or not, it was nice. I took a few moments for myself, then headed to our quarters, already feeling my elation grow at the prospect of tonight’s activities. What did he have planned? What was he hiding from me through our connection?

One of those questions was answered when the door slid open. Our bedroom had been draped in muted, red-toned cloth. Great sweeps of fabric had been hung, giving a sheltered, warm feeling. The lights were low, with candles providing more light. There was some sort of smell in the air, an indescribable scent that I could only call sweet and musky.

And then there was Spock. Lounging against the arm of our angled sofa, shirtless and totally relaxed. There was a small chocolate bar on the table, a glass of some sort of alcohol. Judging by the faint green glow across his cheeks, the chocolate on the table wasn’t the only one that had been present.

“Ashayam,” he said softly, standing and casting aside the blue shirt that he was apparently wearing a few minutes prior. He stalked towards me, movements lithe and catlike. His hands found their way to my cheeks, holding my head lightly. The marble in my brain seemed to expand, the edges becoming soft and malleable until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. He projected a sense of tenderness, intimacy, of unabashed pleasure at his plans for the evening. My head began to swim with the intensity, and I leaned against his chest for support.

I gave him a chaste kiss, then stepped toward the table. “I’ve gotta catch up,” I said with a wink in response to his questioning look. I downed half of the beverage, and it burned in my belly exquisitely. I removed my shirt, tossing it in the general direction that Spock had flung his. My ass found the seat that he had previously occupied, and I leaned diagonally against the arm, crooking my finger at him in a ‘come hither’ gesture. He complied, inching towards me across the sofa, agonizingly slow. When he was close enough to grab, I pulled him up to me, bodies flush together. His weight was present and comfortable, but mostly supported by his hands and knees. I sighed against his shoulder, content and electrified by the bodily contact. Contact that had been denied me for days, making me crave it all the more.

And contact he gave me, skin against skin from neck to lower stomach. His hands roamed my sides, my shoulders, the curve of my hip bone, before finally one of them intertwined with my own. My sighs had turned to gentle gasps with the full force of his arousal, which coursed through my brain in fiery waves. His other hand had settled on my lower stomach, splayed on the gentle curve of my pelvis. It roamed lower, lower, until he was teasing the tops of my thighs underneath my trousers.

“Spock,” I managed to pant, “_please..._” I could feel him smirk against the side of my neck, teeth grazing along the tendons there, coming to ghost over his claiming mark once again. His cockiness was warranted; in a matter of minutes, he had reduced me to a mewling mess, pliant and needy in his hands.

He didn’t make me wait long. His fingers, graceful and strong, began their descent, too fast and too slow all at once. They ghosted over my clit, brushed against my lips, lazily traced over my entrance. My hips ground against his hand, demanding more attention than I was receiving. He complied with my wordless request, moving against me with more force and speed, finger rubbing circles onto my clit in a way that left my head spinning. My hands began grasping against his shoulder, his back. There was a vague awareness that I was scratching lines along his shoulder blades, but my attention was almost entirely limited to the feeling in my groin and his teeth and lips on my neck.

“You’re teasing,” I murmured, bringing one hand to rest on the middle of his chest. He pulled back, dark eyes meeting mine. When he pulled away further, I moaned, missing the contact in an instant. His strong hands ripped my pants, pulling them nearly in two and discarding them on the floor. “Those were my work pants, you ass.” Any further complaints were silenced with his lips on my pussy.

Spock was talented with his tongue, but I’d never put his skill to the test on this level before. His movements were skillful, utilizing every part of his tongue, flicking the tip, pushing the flat of it against my clit. He brought a hand up, using his thumb to rub against my clit while his tongue delved deeper, tonguefucking me in a most divine way.

He kept me perched on the edge of climax, pulling away and stilling his movements when I came close to coming. The stimulation left me writhing, searching for something to grasp onto. He supplied a hand, and the buzzing between them nearly sent me over the edge. He finally relented, sucking my clit with his lips and rolling his tongue against the underside. My orgasm was intense. I don’t know how long it lasted, but it felt timeless. Ripples and flutters swam through me, overcoming every other sensation. I wasn’t aware of how tightly my thighs were clenched until they unclenched. A gasp came hard against my oversensitive pussy, finally allowing Spock to breathe. My thighs were shaking, nearly vibrating against his shoulders. It took a few moments for me to regain my bearings, one hand clenched tightly around one of his and knees hooked over his shoulders.

The feeling coursing through me, heightening my orgasm and afterglow, that immense satisfaction and pride and worship, was this the other side of his Pon Farr? Was there some drive present that left him feeling like a servant to my desires, ecstatic to be shown the fruits of his efforts, grateful to bask in the pleasure coursing through my every nerve?

My only answer was his smile, half-pressed into the crease of my thigh. And then that part of him in my mind expanded again, edges phasing out until he was present in the forefront of my mind, and later I could have sworn that I could hear his thoughts, faint and unpronounced like a voice down an echoing hallway. There was a feeling, a sensation of him being willing to do whatever I wanted tonight. Anything my body required, he would provide in full.

And so he did, pinning me roughly and holding my back pressed against the wall with my thighs atop his shoulders, tongue doing absolutely obscene things. It put him into some kind of frenzy, moving against me through one fast approaching orgasm, then another. I was an absolute mess, skin slick with sweat and hand clenched tightly in the hair above one of his ears.

He set me down gently, on the bed, head and shoulders propped up lightly on pillows. He stroked me for a time, hands gliding over my skin until my breathing had returned to normal and I wasn’t flushed beet red. And then we were moving again.

His fingers first, then the soft slide of his cock into me, hips slowly tracing a line forward. The stretch was delicious, the head of his cock pressing timidly against my cervix. He pulled back slowly, then pressed back in with just slightly more force. He kept this speed, this achingly slow _slide_ until I was moaning and mumbling a prayer for more, please, fuck me harder, _please._

And he complied, speed and angle of his hips increasing until the creak of the bed underneath us was finally audible above our panting. I wasn’t aware of anything outside of our bubble, this space of movement and skin against skin, the feeling of each other in physical and mental contact. I certainly wasn’t aware of any communicator beeps or entrance chimes at our door. When asked about it later, I would snort quietly into my coffee and make an excuse about being dead asleep.

The bubble began tightening. My sensations were slowly focusing on the feeling in my core, that tight coil ready to snap back at a moment’s notice. My hips stilled as the bubble shrank, retracting inwards and exploding outwards as my orgasm overtook me, a holy sensation of touching something divine spreading through every fiber of my being. I was teased a little bit later about speaking in tongues, absolute nonsense words pleading for something unnamed, but goddamn if it didn’t feel like infinity coursing through me, rushing sparks and crackling electricity through my nervous system. I had no sense of time, lost in that bubble of pleasure. It dissipated slowly, reducing gradually until it was that still marble in my mind, generating enormous satisfaction, that slightly arrogant pride.

I never noticed when he began massaging me, rubbing the tension and soreness from my muscles with an oil that smelled like roasted almonds. I only noticed when his hands left my back, which earned him a gravelly moan, my face pressed into the pillow underneath. A low chuckle, and I felt the blanket being pulled up, the weight of his body on the bed next to me. I managed to shuffle over, wrapping one arm around his torso and resting my head on the curve of his shoulder, intertwining our legs.

“Sleep now, ashayam. I love you.” A lingering kiss was pressed to my temple, his cheek coming to rest on the top of my head, and I knew no other sensations other than the dissipation that leads to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


	18. I'm A Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm overwhelmed and therefore so is Liz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So life kicked me in the nads again lmao, i got evicted, dropped from classes, moved back in with my shitty mom, got reinstated into classes that I'm now SUPER behind on, yada yada yada. enjoy, or dont i guess

I was drowning in work. There was nothing else like it, serving as McCoy’s number one. Researching whatever diseases were prominent wherever we were visiting, treating those diseases and whatever injuries the away team had sustained, running labs on a hundred different patients who all wanted their treatment _now._

I usually handled it with such grace, such composure and organization. But something slipped, a report that I’d meant to finish writing, somehow it snowballed into this, this… haze I was left in. I could barely even list out the things I had to do, the tests and samplings I had to run, the patients to schedule, and reschedule when the inevitable walk-in wandered their way into MedBay.

I hadn’t realized that I was late for work, didn’t hear the beeping of my communicator or the calling of my name over the ship’s comm. I was too caught up in going over the lists- yes, _lists_ plural now- of my obligations and responsibilities, caught in that damned cycle that left me unable to actually begin any of these tasks.

And that’s how my better half found me, crumpled on the bed and surrounded with PADDs, tabs and tabs of reports and research notes obscuring the large screen on one wall. Didn’t even hear the sneaky bastard come in, only felt him when a hand was placed on my quivering shoulder.

He didn’t protest when I pulled him into the bed. He just let me hyperventilate into his shoulder, breathing through the hard grip on my chest.

“Spock?”

“Yes, t’hy’la?”

“I think I need a vacation.”

“I believe Doctor McCoy can be persuaded to arrange that.”

And just like that, the air rushed back into my lungs, the feeling of crushing _weight_ was lifted.

“Spock?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“And I, you. Now let’s clear up this mess and help you relax, shall we?” He was glad to see me away from the edge of panic, but the glint in his eye suggested a fairly _active_ way to aid my relaxation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving Kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you're reading, please consider leaving kudos or comments, they mean the world to me!


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